


Believe

by Lady Sarai (lady_sarai)



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-01
Updated: 2006-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 08:28:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_sarai/pseuds/Lady%20Sarai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>But Ernie has always been a busy student, and while they have had the odd polite conversation, he realizes that he knows nothing about Hufflepuff's resident ghost.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Believe

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://community.livejournal.com/omniocular/profile)[**omniocular**](http://community.livejournal.com/omniocular/)'s January challenge, (and technically late, although before midnight in California) in which I drew Ernie Macmillan and the Fat Friar and spent the month wondering how on earth I would write this fic without offending the masses with religion. And after spending a month fretting over this fic, it pretty much came to me fully formed and wrote itself. In fact, the fastest written fic I've had in... a long, long while. Divine intervention, perhaps. ;) Special thanks to [](http://zoe-chan.livejournal.com/profile)[**zoe_chan**](http://zoe-chan.livejournal.com/) for being my beta extraordinaire.
> 
> Christian theology mentioned in context, and hopefully no one is offended.
> 
> Directly follows events in _Goblet of Fire._

The Hufflepuff common room is, like all the common rooms, decorated in House colors. Because it is in the basement, the common room has high windows, a plethora of bright lamps and several warm fires. All this light brings out the shades of yellow in the rugs, tapestries and armchairs. Usually, the impression one gets upon entering the common room is one of warmth, and joy. The yellow fairly glows. It is the dominant color.

Not today.

Today, Ernie sees the black. He sees the shadows and the gloom. The grief. The yellow is too bright this morning; the room is obnoxiously yellow. When he enters the common room, he freezes. The faces of his housemates are forlorn—red, puffy eyes and tears greet him. He looks for his friends, and finds them in the far corner. Hannah's face is hidden by her hands and Susan is holding her. Justin sits nearby, vacant. Ernie feels a rush of unnamed emotion and sees nothing in the room so much as the absence of color. For the first time in four years, Ernie is reminded that his common room lies _underground_ and he is inexplicably claustrophobic.

He feels a sudden desire to _go,_ to be anywhere that is not here. It seems to Ernie that the common room itself is mourning, and he recognizes this as far too philosophical a thing to be thinking before breakfast. Without thinking, without stopping to speak to anyone, Ernie turns and leaves.

He walks without aim, without purpose. There is nowhere he wants to be right now. He loves his House; he's very proud to be a Badger… But he wants nothing to do with it right now. Nothing to do with that closeness, that camaraderie. Ernie doesn't even want to think about what he's feeling, never mind share it with others.

Finding himself in the Great Hall, Ernie glances at the doors. The sunlight is streaming through windows and beckoning him after the gloom of the basement, but he knows that he will wander to places better avoided. Instead, he turns and wanders up the staircase. He keeps his head down and eyes to the floor. He focuses all of his attention on his steps, occasionally sparing some thought to the other feet he sees walking by—can he recognize his classmates if all he sees are feet? He finds that he cannot, and shoves aside the intrusive and unwelcome thought that someone else—a better someone—a someone who is gone—could.

Ernie looks up at this, because he wants nothing else than to be numb. To continue to feel absolutely nothing, and think of even less. He is surprised to find that he does not know where he is. This is alarming enough to startle him out of his numbness, and he turns around in a slow circle. He finds himself in one of the odd, undefined corners of the castle—if he had continued, he would eventually have been forced to turn around. There is a window, and Ernie approaches it to find he has climbed at least two flights of stairs—but the castle is notoriously misleading from all angles, so he could be anywhere.

Turning around, his gaze falls on a door at the end of the hall—one he has never seen before. There is a simple wooden cross hanging in the center at eye level. Ernie is surprised both by the presence of the cross and his reaction to it. It's an odd sensation, as though his stomach is falling and his chest aches. He is curious, and recognizes a longing. He's not particularly religious, and he doesn't normally react to crosses this way. It catches him off guard, this sudden desire for spiritual comfort. He hesitates a moment before grabbing the doorknob, but he's never heard of this room before which must mean that few know about it.

Ernie pushes the door open and is relieved to find the room empty. It is clearly a chapel of some kind, and Ernie wonders why he has never heard of this place before. There are tall windows lining the walls and the room is fairly flooded with sunlight. It's not a very large room, or particularly grand. One row of ancient wooden pews, and a simple wooden altar. A cross hangs on the wall behind the altar. There is no stained glass, no velvet, no tapestries or golden crucifixes. All of this surprises and comforts Ernie. The light makes the wooden room feel warm and comforting, after the black gloom of his common room.

Sliding into a pew in the center of the room, Ernie stares blankly at the cross before him. Just a simple cross, with no body draped across it. Ernie has no desire to think about bodies. The room is quiet, calming. It is nice to be alone.

He is not sure how long he sits, dazedly staring at nothing. A startled "oh!" breaks Ernie's determined blank state, and he turns to see that the Fat Friar has glided through the closed door.

The Friar smiles kindly. "I'm sorry, Ernie," he says. "I didn't realize you were here. I can leave, if you'd like."

Ernie hesitates. He doesn't want to see or talk to anyone, really, but his mother would have a fit if she knew he was even considering being so rude. "No," he says, and is surprised to find he means it. "I… I'd like you to stay."

The Friar smiles widely at him. "Thank you, Ernie." He glides through the pews and gestures to the other end of the one in which Ernie sits. Ernie finds himself nodding, and the Friar sits, folds his hands and bows his head.

Ernie watches him for a moment before turning to look forward again. He's never really spent _much_ time with the Friar before. Everyone knows him, of course, and you would never find a single Hufflepuff who could say a word against him. But Ernie has always been a busy student, and while they have had the odd polite conversation, he realizes that he knows nothing about Hufflepuff's resident ghost.

Ernie glances at him out of the corner of his eye, and notices how the sunlight filters through his white-blue form. He can see the dust motes through the ghost's shoulder. He has always been a bit uncomfortable with the ghosts, who make him cold and remind him of death. The Friar has always been a jolly, happy figure and he has never been anything but friendly to Ernie. But Ernie realizes that despite his name, he has never seen him as a _Friar,_ until now.

Ernie is startled and jumps when the Friar speaks without looking up. "Something on your mind, Ernie?"

"Um…" Ernie resists the urge to squirm like a child caught doing something against the rules. His question bursts forth without conscious thought. "Are you really a Friar?" He feels heat rising as he realizes what he's just said and the ghost looks at him with eyebrows raised. He babbles. "I mean, I know you're _called_ a Friar, and that's what we all _call_ you, but…"

The Friar blinks at him before throwing his head back and laughing. Ernie flushes an even deeper shade of red, and wishes he was anywhere else. Finally composing himself, the Friar smiles kindly at him. "Yes, Ernie, I really am a Friar. Have been for many, many years." He winks at the boy.

Ernie can't help frowning. "But… you're a wizard." He thinks, trying to remember what he has learned in Muggle Studies about religion and the Catholic Church in particular. "I mean… how did that work?"

The Friar looks surprised at this question, but not displeased. "You know, I can't recall when someone last asked such an astute question of me." He beams at Ernie, who begins to feel more confident. "I joined my order after I finished at Hogwarts. And I certainly did not display my magical abilities before the Pope, if that's what you're asking."

Ernie allows himself a small laugh. He can't help feeling that he is bordering on rudeness, but a piece of him does not care. "Do you believe in God? I mean…" He takes a breath and plows on, because he knows that he might die of embarrassment if he thinks about what he is asking. "You believe in the Christian God? Father, Son and Holy Ghost? Jesus Christ, born of a virgin, crucified, died and was buried? Rose again on the third day, ascended into Heaven? Do you believe in Heaven?"

Something in Ernie breaks when he asks this last question and his eyes burn, but he stares resolutely at the ghost sitting in his pew and waits for an answer.

The Friar is solemn and looks at him seriously for a moment before answering. "Yes, Ernie. I do. Very much."

Ernie does not answer, because he has so many questions that he does not know how to proceed. The ghost looks closely at him and continues.

"Friars are not monks or priests, Ernie. My order shunned material possessions and wandered, preaching the Word of God and living lives of solitude and poverty. Most friars begged, and depended on God and the generosity of villagers to afford food. When I became a friar, I returned to Hogwarts. I was muggle-born, Ernie, and had never wanted anything more than to serve God. When I came to Hogwarts for my schooling, I found many other muggle-born students who struggled as I did." Seeing the incomprehension on Ernie's face, he elaborates. "I returned as an adult to serve God by helping muggle-born students at Hogwarts. It was not easy, in those days, to align what we had been taught of God and magic to what we were finding to be the truth."

Ernie nods, but cannot help his next question. "All right. But… why are you _here,_ and not in Heaven?"

If there was any bitterness to the question, the Friar does not acknowledge it. Instead, he sighs and takes a long moment before speaking. He looks Ernie directly in the eye when he speaks. "Not everyone becomes a ghost, Ernie. Those who do fear death, and make a choice. Whether you realize it or not, everyone has a choice at the moment of death—ghosts are those who chose not to pass through to Heaven." Here, he is quiet and watches Ernie's face for what seems like a long time. "I made a choice, when I died, Ernie. I was not afraid of death. I knew what waited for me, and I had faith that I would certainly join my Savior in Heaven. But. I did not pass through. I did not fear for myself, Ernie, but for my students." He smiles ruefully and gazes forward, to the cross. "Perhaps I made a mistake, but I chose not to reward myself with an eternity in Heaven, but to serve my God here, instead. There have always been, and will always be, students who need guidance and I will be here for them."

Ernie is aware of a burning in his eyes, and his chest aches. He thinks of Heaven, and death and life and that choice the Friar spoke of. He thinks of God and the Devil and Jesus Christ and magic. He doesn't know what he believes, but he knows that the ghost sitting next to him somehow made room for all of these things and believes in them even after he has died. Ernie cannot imagine turning away from Heaven, if he believes in it. A part of him desperately wants to believe.

"Is Cedric in Heaven?" The question tears itself from Ernie's throat and he realizes that he is crying.

The Friar sighs, and Ernie looks at him. It comforts him, somewhat, to see grief on the ghostly face. "I certainly believe he is, Ernie."

Ernie sits and lets this sink in. He lets an image of Cedric with wings and a halo and harp penetrate his brain. Something shifts inside him, and he takes a deep breath. He thinks of his friend and alters the image to one of Cedric in the sun, soaring over the Quidditch pitch on a broomstick.


End file.
